Vain (The Seven Deadly, #1)(52)

“Listen, before Ian returns.”

“Ian?” he asked, amused.

I waved him off. “Dingane, whatever.” But paused, an overwhelming need to defend him bubbled forth. “His name is Ian, you know.”

“Is it?” he asked, stupefied.

I felt my face warm. “Yes, anyway, before he comes back, I need to arrange to have a plane return here in a few weeks time. Can we make that happen? You’re a signer on my account. You can use my private funds if my dad won’t let you otherwise.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” he said, bemused. “Your father has given me carte blanche to give you whatever you need.”

“Honestly?”

“Yes, Sophie. What do you need?”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “A generator, first and foremost. For God’s sake, a flipping generator big enough to run an orphanage for weeks at a time. Something substantial as well as the necessary hands to install it.” I ticked hundreds of things off my mental list, a list I didn’t even know I’d been keeping mindful of. Huh. I snapped my fingers. “You know what? I’d also like you to arrange for a construction company to rebuild the main house with an up-to-date kitchen, big enough to prepare meals for at least a hundred children, bring the supplies as well as the hands from America.”

My imagination was running wild. Pembrook had filled pages of the little pad he’d been writing my demands in. He occasionally shook his hand out, but I kept going, afraid I’d forget it once it slipped from my tongue. I imagined a much better Masego by the time I would have to leave.



Have to leave.



I’d forgotten. I was going to be leaving Masego in a few short weeks. I had two months left. That was all. A feeling of dread filled me.

“And I’d like boxes of shoes,” I mentioned frantically, “more than they’ll need, enough to fill a room with, including clothing, smocks for the girls, uniforms for the boys, varying sizes. Call TOMS Shoes in Dallas, let him know what you’re doing, they’ll help.”

I chewed my thumbnail, something I never did. I would tell Pembrook all the time how it ruined a girl’s nails and only trash did it. I noticed him regard me and I pulled it from my mouth.

“Is-is that all?” he asked, obviously stunned.

“Toys. Wrapped. For some reason, the only thing the girls here like to play is house. So lots of that crap. The boys can think of nothing but soccer. Make sure we get them before Christmas. Is two weeks prior sufficient?”

“Yes.”

It got silent as I continued to pace the width of the plane. I looked up and noticed Pembrook’s mouth gaping.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said, examining his lengthy list, but I knew him well enough to recognize I’d astonished him. I felt a slight pang in my chest that I could have possibly made him proud.

I heard Charles’ truck rumble near the hatch of the plane and I turned to Pembrook. “Not a word, cool?”

He nodded in acknowledgement.

Ian and I helped the crew load everything Pembrook had brought and when it was as full I’d ever seen it, Pembrook hugged me tightly. “Give Charles and Karina my love?”

I nodded, afraid if I said anything I’d cry. Pembrook shook Ian’s hand and we watched him disappear behind the rising hatch. “He loves you,” Ian said.

A tear slipped free. “I know.”





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN



Apparently, four more children had gotten ill during the nine hours we’d been away when we arrived around five in the morning. When all I had been thinking about was sleep, Karina approached us both with two giant cups of coffee. I selfishly cringed but quickly scolded myself. We all unloaded the supplies and readied to inoculate all the children.

We administered vaccines to all the adults then sent them on their way to set up stations at all three quarantines. I secreted one off to Mandisa and stuck her as soon as I possibly could. I wanted her to get better immediately. Selfish, I know, to put her before any of the other children, but I felt like Mandisa was mine. I can honestly say I didn’t regret it.

After each child received their shot, we replaced empty saline bags and treated fevers just as the sun was rising.

“That’s almost twenty-four hours straight without sleep,” Ian sleepily said, stumbling toward me in Charles and Karina’s cabin. He fumbled across the sofa I was strewn across and laid next to me, his eyes closing quickly.

“Careful, Aberdeen,” I lazily drawled, a secret smile gracing my lips.

He grinned, his lids still seemingly fused. He knew exactly what I’d meant. “I will,” he promised around gleamingly white teeth, throwing an arm over my shoulders. The smile slowly slipped from his lips and his breathing deepened and steadied. Then it was my turn, though I’m sure my smiled stayed.



Around two in the afternoon, I woke to children’s laughter and a heavy arm laid across my back. I peeled open one lid and faced the back of the couch. I quickly shut them, my nose scrunched together in an effort to keep them closed, and listened for a moment.

“What are they doing?” I heard Mandisa ask someone.

“They’re sleeping, Mandisa, leave them be,” Karina answered. Her voice was lighter and I breathed a sigh of relief. I could tell the vaccines were working because Mandisa was lucid. My heart soared.